_tal!_ If I meet her another time!..." He had to remain several weeks in Marseilles while the damage to his steamer was being repaired.
As Toni lacked occupation during this enforced idleness, he accompanied him many times on his strolls.

They liked to seat themselves on the terrace of a cafe in order to comment upon the picturesque differences in the cosmopolitan crowd.
"Look; people from our own country!" said the captain one evening.
And he pointed to three seamen drawn into the current of different uniforms and types of various races flowing familiarly around the tables of the cafe.
He had recognized them by their silk caps with visors, their blue jackets and their heavy obesity of Mediterranean sailors enjoying a certain prosperity.

They must be skippers of small boats.
As though Ferragut's looks and gestures had mysteriously notified them, the three turned, fixing their eyes on the captain.

Then they began to discuss among themselves with a vehemence which made it easy to guess their words.
"It is he!..." "No, it isn't!..." Those men knew him but couldn't believe that they were really seeing him.
They went a little way off with marked indecision, turning repeatedly to look at him once more.

In a few moments one of them, the oldest, returned, approaching the table timidly.
"Excuse me, but aren't you Captain Ferragut ?..." He asked this question in Valencian, with his right hand at his cap, ready to take it off.
Ulysses stopped his salutation and offered him a seat.